


When You're Good at Something

by Thanatopsiturvy



Series: In Search of Nine Lives [7]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Aromantic, Blow Jobs, M/M, Misunderstandings, Modern AU, Modern Era, Pining, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 22:27:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20104612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thanatopsiturvy/pseuds/Thanatopsiturvy
Summary: Azarahd finally meets a long-established member of the Thieves Guild, but a little rumor leaves him burning with curiosity.The charismatic Breton named Dyce may be a bit more than the Khajiit could have ever bargained for.





	When You're Good at Something

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mongoose_bite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mongoose_bite/gifts).

> This story takes place in a Modern AU for Skyrim that has been a pet project of mine, [FourCatProductions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FourCatProductions/pseuds/FourCatProductions), [raunchyandpaunchy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raunchyandpaunchy), and [spiney](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiney/pseuds/spiney) for about a month now! 
> 
> Thank you [mongoose_bite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mongoose_bite/pseuds/mongoose_bite) for letting me borrow Dyce. It was a bit of a dream come true to write him. ♡

The first time Azarahd met Dyce, he actually laughed a little bit. The Breton had a firm handshake and an unwavering bravado about him, despite being nearly a whole head shorter. He looked Ahz in the eye until they dropped hands, after which Dyce unabashedly swept his gaze down the rest of Azarahds body before turning on his heel and striding off. Ahz had to take a minute to collect himself as Brynjolf did a bad job at hiding his amusement behind his hand. 

“He’s like that with everyone, lad.” 

“Is he…” 

From that moment forward Azarahd was determined to find out more. Dyce had apparently been hanging around the Guild for some time, though not quite a senior member. Brynjolf spoke of him fondly but carefully, not without an obvious amount of tact. When Ahz asked Mercer about him he received a scowl and curt dismissal.

“He’s a shit thief, but he’s good for business.”

Ahz wrinkled his brow in confusion. “How is that possible?” 

“Am I paying you to stand around and ask idiotic questions?” Mercer snapped. Ahz bit his tongue against how little Mercer was  _ paying _ him in the first place, but stalked out of his office anyways, smelling like cigarettes and still burning with curiosity.

He and Dyce did  _ not _ run in the same circles. They’d pass each other at Nightingale’s, usually at the end of a long day. Azarahd would see him from across the bar, chatting up a slurring patron, sometimes dipping his slender hands into their unguarded pockets. If he ever caught Ahz staring he was always quick to shoot him a wink before disappearing into the crowd. It was infuriating. The Breton always seemed to hover just out of Azarahd’s reach - dancing through life, always smiling, always catching his eye. It wasn’t too long before he heard a little rumor. 

Dyce gladly accepted payment for certain… services. 

“He’s an escort?” Azarahd didn’t ask so much as demand, finding himself back in Mercer’s office once again. His guild master looked thoroughly bored with his presence, lighting up another of what seemed to be an endless chain of cigarettes. 

“He’s an asset,” Mercer clarified, exhaling a large cloud of smoke. 

“He’s a glorified pickpocket,” Ahz grumbled, and to his surprise Mercer cracked a grin, rolling his cigarette between his fingers.

“You’re not  _ jealous _ , are you?” he laughed, sucking his teeth with a low chuckle. Azarahd felt his hackles beginning to rise, fur standing on end. 

“What exactly would I have to be jealous of?” Mercer just continued to laugh lowly until Ahz stomped away, ears flattened and tail swishing irritably. 

Of course, after the final chat with Mercer, Dyce decided to disappear completely. Azarahd was too stubborn to ask where the man went, so he sulked in bitter silence, usually complaining about the Breton to anyone who would listen. He learned quickly that Cynric and Rune were poor choices when it came to searching for sympathy. 

“He’s a nice guy,” Rune shrugged, taking a swig of his beer. They sat shoulder-to-shoulder at the Drunken Huntsman sometime past midnight; Ahz had lost track of the time. “Just don’t try to tie him down. I think you two would get along.”

“That remains to be seen.” Azarahd swirled his glass, watching the whisky cling to the edges, dripping slowly back down. “Is it true that he’s an escort?” 

Rune shrugged again. “I wouldn’t be surprised.” Ahz was, once again, left without any concrete answers. 

Several weeks passed and Azarahd managed to finally pry Dyce from his thoughts. He fell back into the grind of his daily life, boring as it was, and prayed for something to pull him out of the ever-turning wheel of monotony. Honestly, he’d hoped for a heist or a high profile robbery. Something he could handle. What he got, instead, was a slim, red-headed Breton sidling up next to him at the bar one night.

“Azarahd, right?” Dyce asked, and Ahz nearly jumped out of his skin, the fur on his tail and neck puffing up in surprise. He gripped his glass tightly and glanced sideways with only his eyes. 

“Yes.” He answered cooly. “Dyce, right?” 

Dyce just grinned. “Heard you were asking about me.” 

“Did you?” Azarahd took a measured sip of his whiskey, already cataloguing the names of everyone he’d spoken to. “What did you hear?” Svana placed a tall glass of something in front of Dyce that was bubbling steadily. Cider perhaps? Dyce took a sip, smacking his lips and smiling enigmatically. 

“Just that you were asking after my services.” He grinned and Ahz flexed his whiskers, turning back to his drink. 

“So you do, then...?” 

Dyce shrugged. “When you’re good at something, never do it for free. Interested?”

Azarahd bristled. “I don’t pay for sex,” he said a little too defensively. Dyce’s eyebrows shot up, and he looked truly taken aback for a moment, leaning slightly away. An apology teetered on the edge of Ahz’s tongue but he swallowed it when Dyce started to laugh. It was a bright, clear laugh, bound to make anyone start smiling. Azarahd just scowled more deeply. Dyce shook his head, still chuckling as he turned back to the bar, taking another long sip of his drink. Azarahd watched him through the mirrored wall behind the liquor bottles as Dyce’s expression turned from amused, to thoughtful, to something almost mischievous.

“One-hundred and fifty septims an hour,” Dyce said after a long moment. “Just let me know.” And with that he picked up his drink and sauntered off towards the noisier part of the club. Azarahd tried not to let his jaw drop.  _ One-hundred and…?  _ He knocked the rest of his whiskey back, ears flattening against his head. Who did this guy think he was? He just waltzed back into the Guild after being gone for the gods know how long and… Azarahd paid for his drink and left. His shift at the Fishery was starting in thirty minutes and he needed to walk off his buzz. And his frustration. He knew Mercer was going to be sending him up to Solitude in the next week to rough up their contact. Word had gotten around that he’d been skimming off the top of the imports, and while Azarahd wasn’t going to outright call Mercer a hypocrite for his righteous indignation, he could still whisper it under his breath as he was beating Gulum-Ei into a pulp. 

\---

Azarahd gripped the steering wheel of his rental tightly, grinding his teeth. He’d been sitting in traffic outside of Whiterun for nearly two hours - at this rate there was no way he’d get back to Riften before midnight. He’d turned on the radio briefly only to hear garbled reports about a mammoth-related backup just past the Pelagia turnpike before switching it off again. He thumped his forehead softly against the steering wheel a few times before resting his chin atop it, ears drooping. At least the rental car was nice - sleek, black leather interior, darkly tinted windows. It made him feel posh; way above his current pay grade. His eyes trailed up to his rear view mirror, eyeing the nondescript leather suitcase that sat in the back seat. What Mercer didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him… besides, Delvin thoroughly rewarded discreet, sticky fingers, and Azarahd could pay five months worth of rent with the money he’d just earned. It also meant that he could afford…

“No,” he said out loud, growling at his reflection. “Don’t even fucking think about it.”

It was too late. He’d already thought about it -  _ been _ thinking about it. He’d thought about what those dusky lips would look like wrapped around his cock, how it would feel to gather that mess of auburn hair into his fist and  _ pull _ . He wondered if those freckles stood out when he was flushed, or if they faded - he wondered how far those freckles went, if he could lick a long stripe up that curving spine, as if gathering them up one-by-one on his tongue while he dug his claws into the pale flesh of those thighs. He groaned, palming himself through his pants as his cock thickened, trapped against his thigh. Bad idea. Traffic inched forward for a second, then stopped again. 

Ahz tipped his head back, sighing loudly. He looked out the window into the car next to him - a pair of Bosmer, caught in an argument it seemed. They couldn’t see him. He could splatter the inside of the entire fucking car and nobody would be able to see a damn thing. He imagined Dyce slumped casually in the passenger seat then, staring at him from beneath half-lids, a smirk on his lips.

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

Ahz unzipped his pants, lifting his hips to pull them down just enough so the teeth of his zipper weren’t pressed painfully against the base of his cock as he pulled it free. He hastily grabbed his handkerchief out of his back pocket, placing it on his knee, pulling his collared shirt up and out of the way. When he took himself in hand, he let out a ragged exhale, squeezing tightly once for good measure. Already feeling himself flushing from head to toe, he quickly reached over to turn off the heat, falling back against the leather seat and giving his dick a sharp tug.

“That’s it,” imaginary Dyce encouraged, leaning across the center console. “Keep going.” Ahz imagined the Breton leaning his head down over his lap, sucking on just the tip of his cock teasingly. Ahz rolled the head of his dick between his fingers, against his palm, trying to imagine how hot Dyce’s mouth would feel - velvet-slick and pliant. He groaned and traffic moved forward another inch. He began to work himself more quickly, imagining having pushed the car seat back, Dyce straddling his hips, leaning against the steering wheel as he fucked himself on Azarahd’s cock. Nobody would even be able to see them. He imagined Dyce made breathy, throaty noises when he fucked - not high pitched, but not low either. But every now and then Ahz would snap his hips up into his own hand and imagine punching a shout out of Dyce, pushing him harder against the steering wheel. 

When he came hot and pulsing into his waiting handkerchief, Dyce’s name threatened to roll off his tongue, but his burning frustration cooled almost immediately. He let his head fall back against the seat, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He inhaled deeply, soaking in the rolling pinpricks that danced along the surface of his skin, pleasantly rippling the fur on his arms and stomach. The world seemed softer, easier to handle, and Azarahd cleaned himself, zipped up his pants, and traffic magically seemed to start flowing again.

\---

He’d seen Dyce around more and more often since he’d gotten back from Solitude. After their stilted conversation, if one could even call it that, he wanted to make a point to avoid the man, though it seemed impossible. It was slowly driving Azarahd insane. To his credit, Dyce didn’t seem to treat him any differently than he had before, and Ahz wasn’t sure if that made things better or worse. It was late on a Turdas evening when he finally stumbled into Nightingale’s after a long shift at the Fishery. Mercer had been riding his ass all day about a counterfeit operation that needed to be shut down or quietly bought off (dealer’s choice), but Ahz had neither the time nor the patience to deal with something that required that much finesse. He grabbed his usual drink from Svana, whiskey, neat, and headed up to the second level of the club, content to settle in and watch the show. 

Of course that ended up being the worst possible idea. 

As soon as Ahz stepped foot into the room he was hit with the smell of cigarettes and “Pony” blasting over the sound system, the bass thumping through his chest and making his teeth vibrate. A growl crawled its way up Azarahd’s throat as he looked to the stage. There was Dyce, grinding against one of the poles, fully dressed with paper septims tucked into the hem of his pants. He was wearing a shit-eating grin, locking eyes with someone in the front row as he slid his way slowly to the ground, dragging himself to the edge of the stage and taking an extended bill from a nameless patron between his teeth. Azarahd averted his eyes, moving to the nearest table to watch and sulk in silence. Dyce wasn’t a good dancer. He was jerky and awkward, overly dramatic and honestly would have been off-putting in any other environment. But Ahz couldn’t look away - the sheer charisma the Breton radiated was intoxicating. He smiled and swung his hips and for the briefest second he caught Ahz’s eye and winked. 

Azarahd left immediately. 

\---

“Here.” Ahz tossed the sealed envelope at Dyce. “I want to know what you offer.” Dyce was lounging in one of the booths in the lower bar, Brynjolf parked across from him with a half-empty beer. 

“I’ll ah… find you later, lad,” Bryn offered, sliding out of the booth and giving Azarahd a  _ look _ before clapping a hand amicably against his shoulder. Azarahd slid into the spot that Bryn had occupied, watching as Dyce casually opened the envelope, peeking inside. He let out a low whistle. 

“Wow. You’re serious, huh?” Dyce grinned up at him.

“Yes,” Ahz confirmed with a low growl, figuring the less he said the better. Dyce just shrugged, tucking the envelope into an unseen pocket on the inside of his jacket. 

“Anything specific?” 

Azarahd thought for a moment. “Whatever you think you’re best at.”

“Well,” Dyce chuckled. “That’s very opened ended. And this is for you, right?” 

“Of course it’s for me,” Ahz bristled, eyes darting away quickly as he took a sip of his whiskey. “Have you never worked with a Khajiit before?” 

Dyce shrugged again. “I have a wide range of clientele,” he offered vaguely. “You’ll have to give me about a week though. I have a lot on my plate right now.” 

Azarahd deflated a little. It’s not like he had expected Dyce to be free that night, but a week? He sighed loudly, tapping a finger against his whiskey glass. 

“Very well.” 

“Perfect.” Dyce smiled and Ahz noticed his dimples for the first time. “I’ll find you.” 

\---

A week came and went and Dyce still hadn’t shown back up. Ahz even went so far as to ask after him - only to Brynjolf though. 

“Don’t rush the lad, Azarahd,” he said with a chuckle. “The type of business he does takes time.” 

“Does it?” Ahz snapped. Bryn gave him a sort of sympathetic look which Ahz ignored, choosing instead to finish his drink and exit the bar. He’d been going to Nightingale’s almost every night after work, just hoping to catch sight of the Breton. Azarahd didn’t like feeling this played by someone, and he was already swearing to himself that if Dyce didn’t follow through with the proposition that there would be very real,  _ physical _ consequences. 

\---

“Hey Ahz, someone’s at the door for you,” Nadine said quietly, knocking on the wall just inside his doorway as she leaned through. Ahz looked up from his bed, in the midst of reading a book. He checked his phone - it was half-past seven. 

“Who is it?” 

“Some cute little Breton,” Nadine said with a giggle, and Azarahd felt his face go cold. He threw his book off into a corner and sprang to his feet, startling Nadine.

“Who is he?” she yelped as Ahz rushed by her and skittered around the banister, slingshotting himself down the stairs. 

Sure enough, there Dyce stood just inside the doorway, inspecting the row of coats and scarves that hung by the door. He smiled easily as Ahz practically leapt down the stairs. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked, trying not to sound as horrified as he felt.    
“I said I’d find you,” Dyce offered with a smirk. “Nice place. How many people live here?” 

“Seven!” Nadine offered as she plodded back down the stairs behind Azarahd. “It’s a nifty communal setup. I’m Nadine, by the way.” She pushed past Ahz and extended her hand. Dyce took it and shook firmly. 

“Dyce. Always nice to meet another Breton,” he said with a lopsided grin, and the whole situation felt surreal. Nadine giggled and bit her lower lip, backing towards her bedroom door. 

“Well, you two have fun,” she offered. “...Night.” Her door clicked shut and they were left alone. 

“How did you find where I lived?” Ahz asked, failing to keep the panic out of his voice. Dyce was walking into the living room, reaching out to run his fingers along the worn leather arm of the sofa. 

“It’s what I do,” he replied after a moment. He started to wander towards the kitchen passing through the dining room. “This house is pretty amazing. Really.” He plucked a book off the massive shelf that ran the length of the wall - a Breton cookbook.” Seven people live here?” He let out a short, low whistle, similar to the one he’d made when Ahz had first handed him the envelope of septims.

“It’s… eventful,” Ahz admitted, and wasn’t sure if he should be encouraging smalltalk or not. Dyce had put the book back on the shelf and was meandering out into the hall through the other archway, Azarahd trailing behind him uncertainly.

“Would you... ehm.” Ahz cleared his throat, watching as Dyce peered into their washroom curiously. “Could we maybe go to my room? To talk?” 

“Sure!” he agreed with a smile, motioning for Ahz to lead the way. They trudged up the stairs just as Aerik was coming out of the bathroom, a towel slung lowly around his waist as well as one twisted around his hair. 

“Hello, Ahz and friend,” he said with a salute before sauntering off to his room. Dyce watched him go with a raised brow.

“Is everyone who lives here hot or...?” Dyce laughed as Azarahd ushered him hastily into his room. 

“No,” he said automatically. “I mean. My friends are attractive, yes…” Azarahd closed the door behind them, sighing and scratching his neck. “What eh… what’s going on here?”

“I’m here for what you paid for!” Dyce exclaimed, sitting down on Ahz’s bed and bouncing a few times. “Sorry it took so long.” 

Ahz shifted anxiously, still unsure of what to do. “It’s… fine. So… how…?” 

“Well,” Dyce began before he could finish, reaching into an inner pocket of his well-worn leather jacket and pulling out a small notebook. “Since the parameters were so open-ended I took some personal liberties.” He flipped to the center of the notebook, beginning to read. 

“Name: Azarahd, or Azarah’dar. Twenty-eight years old. Originally from Dune in northern Elsweyr, moved to Skyrim six years ago, been with the Thieves Guild for four - works primarily for Mercer after the Guild split, though is known to do under-the-table work for Karliah.” Dyce flipped to the next page; Azarahd’s jaw dropped. “Briefly attended the College of Winterhold, skilled mage, sees a therapist twice a month, struggles with general anxiety disorder as well as speculative sex addiction, works for the Riften Fishery HQ during the day, oversees the warehouse by night, has slept with his bosses wife on multiple occasions…” Dyce looked up from his notes with a shrug. “That one wasn’t technically part of your case, your name just popped up when I was asked to look into it.”

“You’re a PI….” Ahz groaned, covering his eyes. He slid his back down the door until he hit the ground, tucking his knees against his chest and wrapping his tail around himself tightly. “You’re a godsdamned PI.”

“Like I said.” Dyce closed his notebook with a snap. “When you’re good at something, never do it for free.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Ahz asked, still covering his face with his hands. 

“Because you thinking I was a sex worker was hilarious, but also not entirely wrong.” Ahz looked up then and Dyce was smiling thinly. “I’ll fuck for the job, but usually it’s only to help with… information gathering.” 

“I’m so sorry,” Ahz sighed.

“It’s fine!” Dyce grinned. “It was an interesting way to get to know you.” A beat of silence passed between them. “If you wanted to have sex you could have just asked.” 

Azarahd let his head fall back against the door, his shoulders beginning to shake with laughter. Soon his sides were heaving and he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to stop. Dyce was watching him with an unreadable expression, but it landed somewhere between amusement and fondness. 

“I…” Ahz finally managed, slightly breathless. “I don’t think this has ever happened to me before.” 

Dyce smirked. “I’m a lot of people’s first, in one way or another.” This caused Ahz to burst into laughter again, and this time Dyce joined him, and it was that same bright, clear laughter he’d heard the first time. Only now, instead of irritation, it washed over him like a summer breeze. Once his hysteria finally seemed to settle, Ahz pushed to his feet, lightheaded. 

“I feel thoroughly humbled,” he confessed. 

“Hmm.” Dyce also got to his feet. “Not my intention, but good to hear.” They stared at each other for a long moment, unmoving. Azarahd knew Dyce was waiting for him to make the next move, waiting to see which way the cards would fall. 

“So,” Ahz began at last, “...would you like to have sex?”

Dyce beamed at him. “I quite literally thought you might never ask.” 

They seemed to lunge for each other simultaneously, and finally,  _ finally _ , having Dyce in his arms was almost worth the wait. Worth the turmoil. Dyce kissed with confidence and focus, standing on his tiptoes and circling his arms around Azarahd’s neck, not a single moment of hesitation. If he’d never been with Khajiit before, it didn’t show - he didn’t shy away from the way their teeth clicked together sometimes, didn’t seem to think twice when he nipped at Ahz’s lower lip, pulling at it slightly, only to dive back in again all tongue and raw need. Azarahd wanted to devour him. 

He pulled at Dyce’s jacket and they disentangled long enough for him to shrug it off and toss it over his shoulder before he was right back in Ahz’s arms again, warm and firm. Ahz walked them back until Dyce’s knees hit the bed, pushing him down, slotting their thighs together with a groan. 

“You,” he breathed, low and ragged against Dyce’s mouth, “have been all I could think about for over a month.” 

“I’m flattered,” Dyce chuckled, rolling his hips up and making Ahz’s breath stutter. He bit softly into the crook of Dyce’s neck as his hands slid up the man’s shirt, running across his sides, mapping the outline of his wiry, lean muscle, the soft bumps of his ribs. He ghosted his thumbs across Dyce’s nipples which pulled a soft, breathy moan from between those lips and Azarahd cursed appreciatively. 

He reared back, quickly pulling his shirt up and over his head, throwing it somewhere off to the side, before tugging impatiently at Dyce’s. Dyce just laughed, arching his back and wriggling out of his clothes with practiced ease. Azarahd paused to just take him in, running a hand across his chest, across the sparse hair in the center, the dusting of freckles that trailed over his collarbone and spilled over his shoulders. 

“I want to suck your cock,” Dyce said, looking up at him with hazey, lust-drunk eyes. Blue, Ahz finally noticed.

“By all means.” Ahz nodded with a smirk, pushing himself up to standing and beginning to unzip his pants. Dyce sat up quickly, nimble fingers eager to help, and Ahz let him do the rest. 

“So this isn’t going to change the outcome of what’s about to happen,” Dyce began, pausing as he hooked his fingers into the hem of Azarahd’s pants. “But I… just need to know. Barbs or no barbs?”

Azarahd sighed loudly. 

“I just have to ask!” Dyce said with a chuckle, putting his hands up defensively. “I’ve been with both types. I gotta know what I’m working with.” 

“No barbs,” Ahz said flatly, but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. Dyce just smiled. 

“Glorious.” 

He pulled down Ahz’s pants in one, fluid motion, cock springing free and jutting proudly forward. Dyce slid off the bed and onto his knees, actually licking his lips, and Azarahd might have laughed had his mind not immediately blanked out as Dyce grabbed him by the base and swallowed him down. It was better than he imagined, but then again it usually was - Dyce had the technique and finesse of a cocksucking master, and Azarahd took the opportunity to tangle his fingers in the man’s hair.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he growled, and Dyce hummed around his length. Ahz rarely came from receiving head, but he felt himself teetering wildly on the edge just from watching the stretch of Dyce’s lips, the way his cheeks hollowed as he pulled off, how the fan of his soft brown lashed stood out against his cheeks… As it turned out, his freckles got a bit darker when he was flushed.

“Dyce,” Ahz all but purred, and realized it had been the first time he’d called him by name since their conversation weeks ago. He tugged on Dyce’s hair, pulling his head back, forcing him off his cock. Dyce let out a small, ragged gasp, opening his eyes and looking up, lips wet and already slightly swollen. Ahz let one of his hands slide down the side of Dyce’s face, traced his thumb across Dyce’s lower lip, only to be rewarded with the small flicker of a pink tongue and a cheeky grin. With a groan he pulled Dyce forward again and the man took his entire length like it was nothing. He held him in place for a few seconds, feeling Dyce’s throat constrict around him, before releasing his hair. Dyce pulled off with a loud exhale, laughing a little bit as he ran his hands up Azarahd’s thighs, carding his fingers through the thicker fur at his hips.

“On the bed,” Ahz demanded. “On your back. Pants off.”

“Well yes sir,” Dyce agreed with a chuckle, bracing against Azarahd’s hips to push to standing. Dyce’s pants seemed to come off with the same ease as his shirt, as if his clothes barely had any business being on him in the first place. Ahz kicked his own pants the rest of the way off before feeling impatient and grabbing Dyce around the waist, hauling him off his feet, and tossing him onto the bed. It always felt good to be with a partner small enough to throw around. Dyce was laughing again, though it quickly turned into breathy gasps as Ahz climbed overtop him and began to lick and bite his way down Dyce’s torso, stopping every so often for a slower, lingering kiss. He paused at Dyce’s hip, breathing deeply into the crease of his groin, the smells of sex and musk and soap swirling through his lungs and he began to fell that primal pull of  _ claim-take-have. _

Azarahd scooped his hands beneath Dyce’s thighs, pushing them into his chest, and immediately licked his way between his cheeks and...  _ yep _ , just what Ahz suspected.

“You knew this might happen,” he growled, looking up. Dyce was panting, sheets balled between his fists, and just grinned at him. 

“I like to be prepared for any and all possible outcomes.”

“Of course.” Ahz’s smile felt just this side of feral. He pressed back in, running his tongue across Dyce’s hole and shuddering at the hoarse shout it tore from him. Azarahd knew his tongue wasn’t for everyone, but those who enjoyed it usually seemed to  _ really _ enjoy it. Dyce appeared to be in this camp, bucking and squirming against Ahz’s mouth, making delicious noises as Ahz pressed his thighs forward into his chest even more, bending the man in half. He kept going until he felt Dyce relax, pressing in just enough, fucking him open with his tongue.

When he finally pulled away, Dyce’s thighs were quivering slightly and Azarahd showed mercy, releasing his grip and letting Dyce unfurl with a sigh. He reached over to his bedside table, yanking the drawer open with more force than necessary, to grab a condom and some lube. The nearly ever-present grin was back on Dyce’s face as he watched from beneath half-lidded eyes. 

“I love a man who’s safe,” he said, voice husky. Ahz smirked, ripping open the packet with his teeth.

“I figure it’s only polite.” He rolled the condom on, getting a bit distracted once he’d draped one of Dyce’s legs over his shoulder and pressed his fingers inside, pumping Dyce’s cock lazily and trying to see just how many different sounds he could coax out of him. 

“Alright, I’m really going to need you to fuck me,” Dyce insisted, chest flushed, looking utterly debauched. “Because I’m going to be just a bit cross if you make me come and your dick isn’t in my ass.” 

“So impatient,” Azarahd grumbled playfully, pulling away to grab the lube and spread a generous amount onto his cock. 

Dyce laughed. “Am I impatient?” His laugh turned into a hiss, turned into a groan, head falling back against the bed as Ahz pressed into him. He’d been so thoroughly worked over that it practically felt like Dyce was pulling him in.

“Don’t stop…” Dyce panted. “Fuck me.” 

Azarahd didn’t need to be told twice.

He rolled his hips, taking it slow at first, pulling Dyce’s other leg up to lay across his shoulder. He fucked into Dyce with purpose, even and deep, curling his hips and sinking fully into him each time. His eyes had nearly fluttered closed when he saw Dyce take himself in hand, giving his dick a few languid tugs. Ahz felt a pull somewhere in his chest, and he let out a long, low growl, snapping his hips forward and picking up the pace. Dyce let go and reached his hands up over his head, bracing himself against the headboard, eyes screwed shut. His breathing was rapid, a moan or grunt escaping every so often. Ahz wanted more, wanted to hear more, taste more. 

He pulled out, grabbing Dyce’s thighs and pulling him further down the bed. 

“Flip over,” he commanded, and Dyce did, scrambling onto his hands and knees, ass in the air. Azarahd couldn’t help himself and gave it a firm smack and - _oh_ _yes,_ Dyce’s upper back was absolutely covered in freckles, just as he’d imagined. He leaned forward, his cock pressing against the crease of Dyce’s ass to lick between his shoulder blades, biting down lightly on the back of his neck. 

“Gods…” Dyce gasped. “I fucking love when Khajiit do that.”

“Good to know.” Ahz lined his cock up, pressing back in, and wrapped an arm around Dyce’s chest, sinking his teeth into the meat of his shoulder as he began to curl his hips at a frenzied pace. Dyce seemed to relinquish control of his vocal chords at that point, shouting hoarsely in time to every other thrust. Azarahd was positively drunk on all of it. 

He felt his climax building at the base of his spine, raw and almost too big, stretching him thin - he was somewhat thankful for the condom, making him last a bit longer than he might have otherwise. He released Dyce’s shoulder, pulling himself up straight and hooking his fingers into the crook of Dyce’s hips to drive forward harder, pulling him back to meet his thrusts. Dyce had grabbed a pillow, burying his face into it, muffling his shouts. Ahz was muttering absolute nonsense in Ta’agra when his rhythm began to falter, his grip tightening, thighs straining, and he let out an involuntary snarl as he doubled over and came harder than he had in a long time. 

He rested his head between Dyce’s shoulder blades for a long moment, breathing heavily. Finally, he wrapped his arms around Dyce’s stomach and pulled him up until Dyce’s back was pressed flush against his chest and he was sitting on Azarahd’s lap, cock still buried in his ass. 

“Touch yourself,” Ahz purred into his ear. “I want to feel you come.” Dyce only groaned in response, one hand flying to his dick while the other held on tightly to Azarahd’s forearm. He fisted himself furiously, his body shuddering as Azarahd held him tightly, mindlessly licking the side of his neck. 

“Oh…  _ fuck _ …” 

Dyce came with a long groan through gritted teeth, trying to catch as much of his spend with his free hand as he could. Ahz bit down on his neck, purring lowly as Dyce clenched tightly around him. He waited until he felt Dyce go slack in his arms to nudge him forward and pull out. Dyce flopped onto his side laughing deliriously, still holding a handful of jizz. 

“One moment,” Ahz breathed, stumbling off the bed and grabbing the shirt he’d thrown into a corner, handing it to Dyce. 

“Ah, but it’s such a nice shirt,” he protested weakly, taking it anyways and wiping the come off his hand, still breathing heavily. 

“Something to remember you by, then,” Ahz grinned. 

From the other room the faint sound of clapping slowly became louder. 

“Good show, boys!” Aerik called through the wall, and Ahz stroder over and banged his fist against it loudly. 

“Manners!” he snapped. Dyce was still laughing, arching into a languid stretch. Ahz hissed in pain as he finally removed the condom and dropped it in the bin, rubbing the tender spot around the base of his cock where the tight band had bit into the sensitive skin. 

“Yeah, that’s a bit of a bitch when that happens,” Dyce agreed, opening his arms and wrapping Azarahd up for a cuddle as he climbed back onto the bed. “You don’t mind if I stay the night, do you?” 

Ahz purred, intertwining their legs, deeply content. “Not at all.” 

“Good.” He ran a hand down the center of Ahz’s back in slow, lethargic strokes. “You’re really soft.” 

“I get that a lot,” Ahz chuckled into the crook of Dyce’s neck, low and rumbling. 

They both drifted off on top of the covers with the lights still on only to wake up several hours later and fuck again, a bit slower, a bit less frantic. Dyce rode him in the dark, hands splayed out across Ahz’s chest, and Azarahd sucked Dyce off and swallowed every bit of his spend until his was shaking and whimpering. Eventually they slipped beneath the covers, murmuring lowly to one another, using the cloak of darkness to ask questions and share confessions, and Azarahd found that he didn’t care if he got any sleep at all that night.

\---

Warm, morning light streamed through the kitchen window as Azarahd measured out the coffee, humming something off-key to himself. It was a Loredas, so most of the house had the day off, the exception being Nadine who worked down the road at a local coffee shop. He flipped the coffee pot on and strolled around the counter and into the dining room, plopping down at the large table. Aerik sauntered in then, hair mussed with sleep and yawning. 

“Morning Ahz. Is that your fuck buddy who’s hogging the bathroom and singing terribly?” 

“Yes,” Ahz nodded without looking, scrolling through his phone to check the morning news. 

“Sounded like you guys had fun,” Aerik smirked, shuffling into the kitchen and opening the fridge. 

“Get a glass,” Ahz scolded automatically, seeing Aerik lift the carton of orange juice to his lips before pausing and sighing dramatically. 

“Yes, mom.” 

The sound of footsteps quickly descending the stairs caused Ahz’s ears to swivel back. He turned to see Dyce rounding the corner, the ends of his hair wet and still clinging to his neck. 

“I’m making coffee if you’d like some,” Ahz offered, and Dyce smiled but shook his head. 

“I really gotta run, sadly. We can do breakfast another time.” He looked up to see Aerik leaning across the counter. “Hi, I’m Dyce.” 

“I’m Aerik,” his roommate responded, his voice dropping into a husky tone. Azarahd just rolled his eyes while Dyce chuckled.

“Hey.” Dyce nudged his shoulder. “Can I bother you for a chat real quick? Outside?” 

“Of course.” Ahz rose to his feet and followed Dyce out onto the front porch. 

“Listen, you gave me a  _ lot _ of money,” Dyce laughed. “And while I enjoyed last night thoroughly and wouldn’t mind a repeat performance, I still don’t want you to feel cheated.”   
“It is no problem,” Ahz assured with a sheepish smile. “It is a lesson.” 

“Well that’s all well and good, but honestly.” Dyce crossed his arms, quirking a brow. “Let me do some work for you. Is there anything you need? Anyone you need dirt on? Information?”

Ahz opened his mouth to answer, but then closed it again. A name did pop up in the back of his mind, small and buried, but it was there. It terrified him.

“There is someone, actually…” 

\---

Azarahd heard the courier slip the mail through the slot in the door from where he sat in the living room. He rocked off of the couch to retrieve it. It was mostly junk, subscriptions, terrible magazines, but one envelope caught his eye - addressed to him. 

The handwriting was absolutely atrocious and Ahz smirked, already having an idea of who it was from. He tore open the seal and paused, taking a deep breath. He decided to go to his room, jogging quickly up the stairs and shutting his door with a quiet click. He stared at the envelope for a moment longer before finally working up the courage to pull the contents out. Dyce’s handwriting was no better with more room to write, but he deciphered enough. It wasn’t the information that startled him. It was the picture included. 

It was blurry, clearly taken from far away and zoomed in. Ahz couldn’t tell where it was, if it was even in Skyrim. But there on a street corner, wearing a Dominion-style jacket with a Thalmor insignia emblazoned on the upper arm, stood his brother. 

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot even begin to express how much I enjoyed writing this story - hopefully Dyce will continue to make cameos in this AU going forward! Personally, I can't wait to write more. 
> 
> Reveiws/comments are always appreciated! （´・｀ ）♡


End file.
